"That was no good night," said Eveline, "so now good morning, father!
it grows so beautifully bright!" she retired with the female attendants, and Edmond and his father alone remained behind in the saloon. They were both silent for a long time, at length Edmond took his gun, and said, "what do you think of all this, and especially of this mysterious fellow, who can demean himself so innocently, and with so much _navete_?"
"I must not express my thoughts," answered his father, "perhaps they would sound too romantic. You will leave us again, my son? and probably will not come back to dinner?"
"You know," replied Edmond, "my pa.s.sion for hunting and the delight I take in mountains and forests; nature elevates us above our suffering; she strengthens our feelings; she inspires and gives us that n.o.ble vigour, which becomes but too often enervated in society, and in every day life. This will be a glorious day after the storm; I will forget all that I have experienced here."
"Let us but bring to nature a pious and purified spirit," said his father, "and she becomes to us the holiest of temples, psalms and songs of praise will then re-echo our holy inspirations; but her gloomy rocks and waterfalls, her desolate solitude with black ma.s.ses of clouds brooding above, her wild echo can also excite still more the uneasy, agitated mind, and arouse more powerfully the turbulent spirit, for she answers only as she is questioned."
"I will therefore speak to her in my way," replied Edmond, half petulantly, "woods and mountains will perhaps understand me better than men." He bowed and went through the garden, and descended the vineyards already glittering, with the first rays of morning.
"He is going there again to Alais," said his father sighing, "and his wild enthusiasm for nature gives place to a well-lighted saloon, card-playing, witticisms, and frivolous conversations. Woe to me that I must thus recognise in him the characteristics of my youth, disfigured and exaggerated!"
CHAPTER II.
The candles were already lighted, when Edmond stood before a large house, undecided if he should enter or not; "she has company again, the same as ever," said he to himself; "and how shall I in my dusty shooting-dress present myself among well-dressed ladies? However, she is kind and indulgent, I am at a distance from home, the strangers too are already accustomed to this in me." He ascended and laid down his gun and pouch in the anti-chamber, the servant ushered him in, and he found only a small circle, the young lady"s two old aunts and a few younger ladies of the town of Nismes, established at two card tables and entertained, as usual, by an old Captain. They were relating to one another the defeat of the Camisards on the preceding day, and how they had a.s.sembled again, and how their leaders had escaped.
"Where is the Lady Christine?" asked Edmond of the Lady de Courtenai.
"My niece," replied the lady, "is within there, indisposed as she says: her capricious fits have returned again, and no one can make anything of her; perhaps you may be able to enliven her, or perhaps she is sad, because the Marshal is not yet come."
Edward pa.s.sed into the adjoining room, the door of which stood open, it was lighted up, and there, on a sofa with tearfraught eyes sat the Lady Christine; her lute lay negligently on her arm, as if she would have played, but she was so deeply plunged in thought, that she started up terrified, when Edmond greeted her and inquired after her health.
"Lady, dearest," he exclaimed, "what is the matter with you? I have never yet seen you thus!"
"Not thus?" said Christine, looking wildly, and with a smile of bitterness, "and why not, it is thus indeed I should ever be! Only you do not know, nor understand me; you will not understand me!"
Edmond drew back bewildered; "how shall I interpret these words?"
"As you will, or rather as you can."
"Explain yourself," said the young man; "you have been weeping, you appear ill."
"All this is of great importance, is it not?" said she with a pa.s.sionate movement.
"How have I offended you?" asked Edmond with sympathy, "it almost appears as if I had: are you mortified by me? I do not know myself guilty in anything; what is it then in the name of all the saints?"
"That you are a man!" said Christine, while her pale cheeks glowed with the deepest crimson.
"Well! really," said Edmond, "this transgression is so new, that I know not how to answer. Is this the amiable Christine of Castelnau, who thus greets her friend, who"--
"Amiable!" cried she pa.s.sionately--"what do you call thus, ye friends?
the bad, the wretched, the worthless of this world, with which we cover our naked misery as with torn purple rags from the worn out, faded wardrobes of former times, when there were yet clothes, and ornament and men?--or has the world been always thus miserable?"--she threw the lute from her as if it terrified her. "This is also one of the deplorable customs, that we should warble and play, and make grimaces, though our hearts were to break, in case a particle of heart throb yet within us."
"You are ill," exclaimed Edmond, "so ill, that I shall run immediately to our friend Vila;" "Stop," said Christine, and while they were still disputing, an equipage quickly rattled up; all arose in the first room, it was the Marshal of Montrevel, who in his dress-uniform stepped lightly and gracefully out of the carriage and bounded up the stairs, and while the folding doors were thrown open, and the ladies and gentlemen in the room formed a respectful line, he greeted them all with the most polite condescension, "Good evening ladies," said he kindly, "I rejoice to see you all well; Captain, Mr. Counsellor, your servant; ah, my young friend," turning to Edmond, "you are here very often; but where is our amiable hostess?"
"She too is not far," said Christine, coming forward.
"And well?" asked the Marshal; "certainly this charming serenity, this grace, these divine talents, how could it be otherwise?--I hope ladies that you will not disturb yourselves; let us all sit down and play, or converse as best it may seem."
He laid aside his sword and plumed hat, and with obliging prompt.i.tude placed an armchair near the fire-place for the lady Christine; he took a footstool and sat on it at her feet, Edmond leaned over the back of her chair and the rest of the company resumed their play. "At your feet, loveliest of women," began the Marshal, "must I find again the peace and tranquillity, which deserted me to-day: yes, this day is one of the most unfortunate of my life!" "Have the Camisards penetrated into Nismes?" asked Christine.
"They will never do that," replied the Marshal smiling, "means have been taken to prevent it; these miserable men will soon have sung their last song. Yesterday they were as good as annihilated, and we should have given them the rout here near Nages, if treachery and wickedness had not, as usual, rendered our best efforts abortive."
"Certainly," said Edmond, "if the people were unanimous in their exertions to extirpate them, the best part would have been achieved."
"Young man," rejoined the Marshal, "I will annihilate them even without the a.s.sistance of the people, for these a.s.sociations composed of citizens, and peasants to oppose them, are more injurious than useful, these men understand neither service nor war, they rather call forth the vigour and insolence of the rebels, the soldier alone can put them down. How unfortunate has it turned out with the good hermit of Saumiere! he is said to have been completely defeated, and at last drowned."
Edmond related what he knew of the affair, and the Marshal said smilingly; "I can easily imagine the anxiety of the old boy; but to continue: an old Camisard, a squinting, bald-headed man pa.s.sed over to us, he was well acquainted with all the secret pa.s.ses of the mountains; I think his name is Favart; he promised to deliver into our hands the leader Cavalier, and his princ.i.p.al troop, together with the infamous Catinat; we find the matter as he has announced it; the Lord of Basville had through kindness for the wretched man, taken him into his service as gamekeeper; and whether it is, that he has not been able to conquer his old attachment to the rebels, or that he himself did not know all precisely: the rebel leaders with a numerous troop have escaped us again, and Cavalier has, as I have just learned from a courier, defeated a considerable body of our people in the mountains not far from St. Hypolite."
"I know Favart," said Christine, "he was in our service for a long while; a wild but otherwise good man; I am only surprised that he could have again abandoned his sect. But is this the misfortune that you bewail so much, Marshal?" "No, beauteous lady," said the Lord of Montrevel, "such things which are mere trifles to a real soldier cannot disconcert me, I should blush for myself, if the common accidents of the field or of life could ruffle my temper."
"Your beloved then is become faithless? console yourself, there still remain enough for you," said the young lady drily.
"Ah, sly one!" said the Marshal, holding up his finger threateningly; "yes, enchantress, if you feel and return my flame, if you only believe in it, then would I consider this gloomy day as the happiest of my life, and to me all the rest of womankind on earth would be as nothing." He declined all the refreshments presented to him by the servants: "This is a fast day for me," he continued, "and I have not yet been permitted to dine to-day."
"You are too severe," said Christine, "too orthodox, too devout; moreover, I do not recollect that this is a fast day."
"It is not that," said the general solemnly; "for, at times, one may break this fast without any great qualms of conscience; but there are things which are not really connected with the church or her ordinances, but which lie in nature, and on that account are more deeply engraven on our hearts; things which many philosophers, as well as ecclesiastics censure as prejudice and superst.i.tion, and which nevertheless have, through the implicit faith of millions, been transmitted to us from the remotest times, and from that very circ.u.mstance possess, yes, I may so express myself, a revered, a holy authority. These signs and tokens of a dark futurity, the immediate voice, as it were, of fate, speaks so much the more thrillingly to us as they appear to the dull eye only ridiculous or, at least, insignificant, and as every man has his protecting genius, so has he also all the signs, which are peculiarly suited to him, and which are of the highest importance, if he attends to them and knows how to apply to himself their signification."
"Excellent!" exclaimed the Lady, "now I listen to you willingly, for if the hero is at the same time a philosopher, I like him all the better for it."
"Most bewitching of your s.e.x!" said Montrevel while he attempted to kiss her hand, which she hastily s.n.a.t.c.hed from his lips. "Being then of this belief," said the Marshal, "you may judge of my horror as I sat to-day at table,--the Lord of Basville to whom, on account of his station, this attention is due, sat near me, my aide-de-camp and a few officers,--dinner is announced, the plates are changed,--but, my sight becomes again obscured when I think of it."--
"For heaven"s sake," said Edmond, "what is it? a.s.suredly some dreadful wickedness of the rebels, fire-brands and murder, or poison."--"No, young man," continued the Marshal, somewhat tranquillized, "against such things I am secure,--my Fleury, the luckless man, my valet, who in other respects is cleverness and dexterity itself, this man at a sign from me (for he only waits upon me and therefore the affair is the more incomprehensible) was handing the salt, and while I was taking it, he entirely upset the saltcellar before me; a mist came over my eyes, I was compelled to go to bed, having discharged my valet, and come here to find consolation and tranquillity."
Edmond, who turned away with the greater shame and vexation, the more he had been excited by the narrative; could not sustain the fiery regards of the Marshal, who, in seeking to arouse sympathy, fixed his eyes steadfastly upon him and Christine. The latter very unceremoniously burst into a loud and hearty fit of laughter, while she looked at Edmond almost maliciously.
"Well, really! madam," began the Marshal, "this treatment is the more unexpected, as I am unaccustomed to it from you; if such things can make you merry, you think too slightly of the happiness, or unhappiness of your friend."
"Not so indeed," said Christine, "besides I am not particularly merry, I think the tale very edifying and dare be sworn, that the woman and children, whom early this morning you so serenely caused to be shot, also upset the saltcellar in their hut yesterday evening, but you are now free from all these accidents, is it not so Marshal?"
"Is it permitted to ask," said Edmond modestly, "what the affair is?"
"Early this morning," said the Marshal more composedly, "I was compelled to sacrifice a few of these unhappy people to the law, for they would have sent provisions to the rebels in the mountains."
"The investigation was somewhat precipitate," said Christine, "not much regard was paid to the denial of the persons arrested; it is true there was some probability, for the mother had a son among the rebels, who may have often enough suffered hunger. She was a woman of forty years of age with two children, one twelve and the other eight years old.
They were led through this street."
"But not the children?" said Edmond turning pale.
The Marshal shrugged up his shoulders and answered lightly, "we must enforce with severity our self-appointed laws, in order to terrify; they could not themselves shew why they were on the by-road; for that they still would have gathered fruit is incredible."
"This mother," interrupted the lady, "with her younger children were seeking for some beans, they were found in the fields by a party of soldiers, terror prevented them from replying quickly to their questions,--and this n.o.ble marshal, this gay, gallant, amiable man, this _bel esprit_, who writes verses, beats his enemies and makes netting, this tender-hearted man who sheds tears if I suffer from headache, this hateful monster caused mother and children to be shot, while he blows a feather from his uniform with infinite grace!"
"Lady!" screamed the Marshal starting up, Edmond stepped back, the footstool was upset and the whole company rose from their card-tables at this sudden uproar.